


Broken

by quinngrey



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blood, Breathplay, Knifeplay, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Violence, this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 16:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13907655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinngrey/pseuds/quinngrey
Summary: In which Mairon breaks Maedhros in both Hroa and Fea.





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not read if you are sensitive to graphic depictions of both physical and emotional violence and noncon.

Few could say they enjoying being dragged by their hair across rough stone floor, their clothes and skin both torn and dirtied with filth and blood. Maedhros was not one of those who enjoyed such a thing. Especially not here, not at the hand of this servant of Morgoth. Though he was considerably taller than the beast, and in better days he could have bested it in battle, he was too weak from being tortured and starved for what felt like an eternity. Unaware of his surroundings, his gaze down as he tried to crawl on hand and knee to alleviate the unkind tug on his hair, he hardly noticed he was being watched with keen eyes. As they came to an abrupt stop he attempted lift his head, brow creased at the one he was lead to. 

“You look tired, son of Fëanor,” the Maia remarked with a smile as though he were merely commenting on something trivial. “Do you still wish to refuse my Lord’s most gracious offer?”

Sickness swirled in his stomach at the thought of ever relinquishing the Oath, of giving in and submitting to Morgoth, of forsaking his people as they had apparently so forsaken him. With as much force as he could muster, he spat at the other’s feet. Even broken as he was in body, his will had yet been crushed. Holding his gaze, Maedhros fought not to avert his stare even as the Maia approached him.

“Very well. Leave us,” Mairon waved his hand dismissively at the creature who had dragged him in. He preferred to play alone, at least for now. Once the heavy door to the chamber was shut it felt as though the air grew colder. Stepping closer he reached down and threaded his fingers into the tangled and matted hair, wrenching the elf’s head backward, drawing him to his knees so that he might meet his eyes once more. 

“Do not forget that you are the one who has chosen this, Maitimo.”

A talon like claw of metal, what Maedhros could only assume was supposed to be a ring, came up and raked down his cheek and split the skin there from temple to chin. Though he tried to pull away, however, the hand in his hair kept him still. With disgust he was made to watch his tormentor’s tongue run over the now blood tainted metal. The hand in his hair twisted and drew an involuntary gasp from him, yet he set his jaw once more not desiring to give the other satisfaction. 

Having expected resistance, Mairon merely tilted his head to the side and offered a hum of consideration before slapping the elf flush across the face, the claw catching his ear in the process. Laughing as his prisoner grunt out his pain, the Maia released the hair and shoved him to fall backward once more. “Oh come now, where is the fight that you had when you first came! You were so much more fun!” The tip of his boot went to the elf’s chest, holding him to the floor as he pulled a short dagger from within his dark robes. “Perhaps a stronger threat, yes?”

Ever defiant, despite the small bit of panic that made his breath quicken, Maedhros tilted his chin up and set his jaw. Though he knew it would only end poorly, even if he could hold out a bit longer, he wanted to prove he was not so easily broken. Yet as the Maia leered ever closer, Maedhros couldn’t help but pray. Valar, save him. 

The first slash of the knife tore the remaining rags of his tunic open, exposing his chest and the small beads of blood now forming in a shallow line. With an exhale, his heart pounding, he grit his teeth, but was given only a few short seconds to gather himself before the other delved the blade into his shoulder. Unable to help it, Maedhros cried out in pain, his hands immediately coming up to the wound. The metal shackles he wore, however, were too short, bound by a chair to the shackles on his ankles as well. He twisted and writhed as his tormentor sharply withdrew the blade and gave him a sickening grin. 

Coming to a crouch beside the elf, Mairon caressed his cheek. “You can endure more than this, Fëanorian,” he soothed, voice sweet as honey. “Your hröa will break long before your fëa… but fret not, I intend to leave no stone unturned this day.” 

Pressing his fingers against the bloody laceration, the Maia delighted in the agony of his captive. “Is this not better, sweet kinslayer? Is this not what you deserve?” The savage hand crawled from shoulder downward, leaving a sticky trail down the elf’s chest until it mean the tattered cloth still covering his dignity. It took little effort to take that last bit away, tossing the scrap to the side. His long fingers curled around the flaccid length he found there, humming as Maedhros attempted to flinch away from the touch. 

Valar, please no. Save him from this.

No matter his prayers, no one came to his rescue. His stomach felt sick, bile rising in his throat as blood stained fingers worked at him. The protest died in his mouth as he swallowed down the acid that had come up, screwing his eyes shut so he didn’t have to watch. Try as he might, he couldn’t picture anyone else, couldn’t clear his head of the loud thoughts that his captor had planted. Was this not what he deserved? For all the pain and hurt he had caused? For the kinslayings? 

In a moment of excitement, Mairon noted that the other’s arousal was stirring. Oh, it seemed he had struck well with his touch. His other hand went to the elf’s mouth, forcing two fingers between dried and cracked lips, the bladed ring laying across his cheek all the while. “Suck, lest you regret it otherwise,” he instructed, and despite the hesitation on the other’s behalf, Maedhros complied. Mairon’s own length was growing hard between his legs, the pressure of his breeches a dull ache. 

Though his prisoner was hardly the most enthusiastic lover, he would do. After all, his master had bid him to break the elf in whichever way he so needed. Maedhros was little more than a plaything, with no goal other than to suffer during his time here. Fingers now slick with saliva, he brought the hand down and pulled apart the other’s thighs and forced a finger inside the tight clench of muscle there. 

Eyes flying open at the searing and unexpected stretch, Maedhros’ legs shut, trapping the hand between them. “Not that, please, please not that,” he found himself begging, voice weak and throat sore from disuse. “Anything but that…”

“Ah! You do speak! At last, kinslayer, for your stoic silence has been dreadfully boring,” Mairon teased, free hand wrenching the legs apart until he could settle himself between them, knees forcing the limbs spread. “Tell me, Maitimo, this surely is not your first time, is it? I assure you, I will be gentle,” he teased, lying plainly as any could see. Gentle was far from the word for what he would be. 

For his own sake more than the pitiful elf’s, he withdrew a tinted glass vial of oil and uncorked it with his teeth. “Stay still, won’t you?” Mairon placed the vial on Maedhros’s stomach, precariously balanced. “Wouldn’t want to spill the only thing that might ease the pain, surely.”

The elf held his breath, his eyes boring holes into the stone ceiling, the darkness he couldn’t quite make out there, willing this to be over. He heard the rustle of robes, yet the entire chamber seemed to be eerily silent aside. When he felt the vial lifted once more, Maedhros allowed himself a shallow breath, but it was caught quickly as a second finger breached him. At least this one was coated in something more than spit, he rationalized, closing his eyes, his head turning so that his cheek pressed against the cold ground.

“Oh come now, do not grow quiet on me once more,” Mairon laughed, withdrawing his fingers without any more preparation. He slicked his length and angled the head of his cock against the other’s quivering hole before beginning the descent into those warm depths. 

Maedhros arched his back, beginning to fight again now that he hoped the Maia was in a more vulnerable state, trying to cant his hips so that he could throw the other off, but an arm quickly pressed against his throat. All air was cut off in that moment, and for how long he wasn’t sure, but the feeling of being stretched uncomfortably open, the feeling of the gaping wound in his shoulder, both felt as though magnified. His blood was rushing, heartbeat pounding in his ears, so that he didn’t hear the undignified sounds escaping him. 

Mairon used his strength to hold the elf down as he fucked him, grinning at the whimpers and barely uttered pleas. He cared not for whatever pleasure he might have from this coupling, but rather for the knowledge that he was finally breaking his new pet. It barely registered until he felt the body growing slack underneath him that Maedhros was beginning to fade out. Removing his arm from the throat, the Maia thrust into the pliant body as the other returned to consciousness. 

Valar, please… 

There was no use. No one was coming for him, no saviour of his own people surely, no divine intervention. He deserved this for the acts he had committed in the name of the Oath. His vision was no longer black around the edges, blinking slowly as he felt the rough scratch of stone tearing up his back as his tormentor thrust into him again and again. When at last he felt the movements growing more erratic, he closed his eyes once more and silently begged for the end.

Withdrawing from the heat that had encased him, Mairon used his hand to finish himself off, coming across the now fully broken elf, white mixing with the dark red blood that was beginning to dry. He pulled back, adjusting his robes and grabbing for his dagger once more to sheath it before standing. 

Pushing his own hair back with his mostly clean forearm, Mairon made his way toward the great door and opened it. Outside were two orc guards, waiting for orders. “Hand him by his arm from the Thangorodrim and leave him to his thoughts. I am done with him for today.”

**Author's Note:**

> I take requests, but don't expect anything fluffy or happy because I am an angst queen.


End file.
